Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. All characters, settings, and original concepts are the property of their respective authors and their associated entities.
I do not claim ownership of these characters, settings, or concepts except what I have introduced myself.
This story is created purely for entertainment purposes and is not intended for commercial gain. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Previous chapter Recap:
Leo Howard Stark was born and raised by Tony stark with An absentee mother who went missing.
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December 31st, 1999 – 9:40 PM
Road to the Event – Leo's Perspective
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The hum of the car was low, steady—like a lullaby designed to calm nerves. But Leo wasn't calm.
He sat upright in the back seat, small hands resting on his lap, his tiny tux perfectly tailored but slightly stiff in the shoulders. Outside the window, the world blurred past in a mix of white snowbanks and dark trees. The road curved along a frozen lake that reflected the distant glow of the city.
The holiday lights couldn't reach him here. Not really.
Leo glanced down at his hands. No scars. No calluses. Just smooth, rounded fingers. Five years old, at least in body. Maybe in face. But his thoughts? His instincts?
Not so young.
And his body? Not normal.
The wrench hadn't snapped by accident. He'd barely twisted it. And the skinned knee that should've ached for days? Gone by the next morning, like it had never been there.
After he asked his Dad, Tony. he shrugged and said "Kid metabolism's a beast."
But Leo had noticed something else that day—something Tony didn't think he saw. A flicker in his father's eyes. A hesitation. Like he was lying… but not ready to say why.
Whatever Leo was—it wasn't natural. It wasn't a fluke of evolution.
It was engineered.
And if his mother's hidden files and the fragments of memory buried in his early years meant anything… someone had made him this way.
He could still recall the vague moments. Not with clarity, but with feeling—sharp, visceral, terrifying.
"Stay with me, Leo… They won't take you. I won't let them."
Gunfire. Screams. A hallway of sterile metal and pounding footsteps.
Someone shouting something about betrayal.
Betraying Hydra.
His breathing hitched remembering that word.
He hadn't told Tony. Not about that. Not yet. Hydra wasn't just a scary story whispered in old war reports. It was real. Ancient. Dangerous. A serpent with too many heads and too many lives.
And somehow, Leo was born in their shadow.
Was his mother still out there? Hiding? Running? Alive?
Or… did she give everything up just to make sure he got away?
A lump caught in his throat.
And then—almost involuntarily—his mind returned to her voice. Not from memory, but from a letter. One she left sealed, with instructions from Tony:
"For when he's old enough to understand."
He'd read it once.
Then again.
And again.
Until it imprinted itself into his mind.
#
To My Bravest Lion.
If you're reading this, it means time has passed—more than I ever wanted. It means you're growing into yourself, into someone I never had the chance to watch become.. you.
I wish I could've been there for your first steps, your questions, your scraped knees, and your triumphs. I've missed all of it. If I am still alive I would feel the weight of that everyday.
Leo.. Remember. You were never a mistake. You were never a secret I wanted to keep. You are the best thing I ever created—and I've created a lot of things. But none with your laugh. None with your fire.
There are things about me—about you—that I couldn't say out loud, not yet. Not safely. You come from more than just science and circumstance. You have roots that reach deeper than even I fully understand. Some of those roots are tangled in shadows. But you? You are light itself.
At least you are my light.
You may find out one day—about the people I worked with, the things I built, the names I served. Some of it will sound heroic. Some will not. And some… will sound like fiction. But know this: I never stopped being your mother. Even when I had to hide, even when I had to lie. Every choice I made had one question behind it:
"Will this keep Leo safe?"
And if you're reading this, then I have one last thing to ask of you.
Be careful who you trust.
The world is not made of black and white. It is threads, woven by hands that don't always care who bleeds.
You have a gift—more than one, maybe. Use them well. Use them wisely. Don't let anger cloud your brilliant mind. Don't let power blind your brave and kind heart.
And when the day comes that you question where you belong—know this:
You are not the weapon they wanted.
You are the answer they never saw coming.
I loved you before I ever held you. I love you still, even if I can't be there.
And no matter how far I've gone—
I am always thinking of you.
With all I am, love from
—Mom
#
Leo blinked hard.
He'd promised himself he wouldn't cry over a letter. Not again.
But tonight, something about it—about the silence, the tension, the weight of questions—felt heavier than usual.
"Hey, you alright back there, partner?" Tony's voice broke through.
Leo looked up. Forced a breath in. His fingers curled around his knees.
"Just thinking," he said, managing a small smile. "That's all."
Tony raised a brow, amused. "That's what worries me."
Jarvis turned slightly, tone polite but pointed. "He's thinking, sir, because unlike some of us, he does not need half a bottle of scotch to focus."
Tony held up a hand. "Rude, but fair."
Leo didn't respond. His eyes had already returned to the window. But he wasn't watching the snow. His mind was still contemplating.
He'd asked Tony to take him to this party for days. Not for the music or the sweets. For Maya Hansen. Her Extremis work was still flawed, dangerous even—but promising. And if he could just nudge Tony into funding her, they might save years of trial and a potential terrorist from ever forming.
At least That is plan A.
Leo stared down at his watch.
Just before leaving, He briefly hesitated and decided to bring along Plan B. He didn't want to do it but he still felt he should, just in case, this was one of those bullshi* absolute points he couldn't change.
Now, his finger brushed the watch's screen. A blink. Then another. The spider responded from its hidden position under his sleeve—lights low, sound muted, systems primed.
"Stealth mode offline." he whispered under his breath, lips barely moving.
"Did you say something, Leo?" Jarvis asked from the passenger seat, glancing back with mild curiosity.
Leo blinked. "Uh... just checking the time."
Tony gave him a look from across the seat. "It's a party, kid, not a mission. You don't need to check the time unless... you're planning to sneak out early."
"I might depending on what snacks they have." Leo deadpanned.
Tony chuckled. "You sneak out, and I'm sending Happy in full Secret Service mode to track you down."
From the driver's seat, Happy chimed in. "I've been practicing my serious face. Want me to show him, boss?"
"Please don't," Tony groaned. "I don't want him traumatized before the shrimp cocktails."
Happy grinned through the rearview mirror. "Too late. Kid's already got that thousand-yard stare."
Tony leaned forward a bit, his elbow resting against the door. "You know, parties used to be my thing. Fast cars. Loud music. Accidental explosions. Now I'm taking a kindergartener with the IQ of a Bond villain."
"I am just a first grader " Leo said without looking. Not like he actually went to a kindergarten. He had been living an isolated life so far.
"Right, my bad," Tony smirked. "A First-grader who can make a particle accelerator. Big improvement."
Jarvis turned slightly again. "Let's not forget the small EMP device, sir. He tested it on my microwave yesterday."
"It needed calibration," Leo muttered.
"I was defrosting a breakfast burrito." Jarvis said flatly.
Happy eye brow raised. "You all sound like this is something normal. Mind you,Kids his age are supposed to whine about not studying and accidentally eat paper glue."
"Oh, it is normal." Tony said. "Normal is Leo making a force field out of tinfoil and a car battery."
"I never did that," Leo said quickly tried to defend.
"You almost did," Tony shot back.
Silence filled the car for a moment, save for the hum of tires over icy asphalt.
Then Jarvis spoke, softer now. "It's good you're coming tonight, Leo. New Year's parties aren't just for fun. They're for remembering. And socializing"
"Yeah," Tony added. "And avoiding certain senators who corner me about weapons contracts. If I disappear for a while, just assume I found someone interesting."
"Define interesting," Jarvis said dryly.
Tony smirked. "Let's just say you should probably keep Leo occupied if I go MIA."
"Understood."
The car rolled to a stop, headlights casting long shadows across the snow-dusted driveway.
Leo opened the door. Cold air rushed in, crisp and sharp. Snow crunched beneath his shoes as he stepped out, his breath rising in a pale mist.
Behind him, Tony leaned out slightly, arms resting on the car door. "You ready to crash this party?"
Leo took a breath—slow, steady. He glanced up at the glittering lights beyond the trees, then back at Tony with a quiet confidence.
"I was born ready."
Tony chuckled, but his eyes held something softer. "Just don't burn the place down, Little Spark. At least not on purpose."
Leo gave a small grin.
And then he saw it—barely there, but unmistakable. The curve of Tony's mouth. The look in his eyes.
Not the usual smirk. Not the playful grin.
It was the smile of a father.
##
8 Months Ago
Sokovia, Near Wanda Maximoff's Once Beautiful House — March 31st, 1999, Wanda's Perspective.
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The wind cut like glass—sharp, bitter, and filled with the silence that always came after screaming. Dust and ash drifted in the air, the ruins of the apartment still smoldering in the dying light. Pietro and Wanda had been hiding for over a day—drinking from broken gutters, scraping food from flattened stalls, their ears constantly tuned for footsteps that never came.
No one came.
Until her.
They heard metal shriek before they saw her—loud, angry bangs echoing through the empty street. Pietro and Wanda ducked lower into the alley, peeking through a crack in the rubble. A woman in a long black coat was beating the life out of a car, hammering her fists into the frame like it had personally betrayed her. Each punch left deep dents in the steel.
"I said no civilians would die," she muttered between hits. "I said I'd make it in time…"
She was talking to herself. Her fists trembled, frozen mid-air, her breathing heavy. Then—like a wolf catching a scent—her head snapped around.
"Whoever's hiding—step out," she snapped, drawing a pistol with practiced ease. "Or I start shooting."
Wanda's heart dropped.
"She's serious," Pietro whispered.
"We're just kids!" Wanda called out, forcing herself to stand before her legs gave in. "Don't shoot!"
The gun didn't lower. But her eyes locked onto them—calculating, cold, military. They stepped into view slowly, dust clinging to their clothes like the past they couldn't shake. Her brows twitched as she studied them.
Children. That's what they were.
Still, the gun stayed up.
"Names," she demanded.
"…I'm Wanda. This is my brother, Pietro."
"Where are your parents?"
"Dead," Pietro answered, jaw clenched. "Just... yesterday."
Her face didn't change, but her fingers relaxed around the trigger.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
Then something shifted. Her questions... changed.
"What's your designation?"
Wanda blinked. "What?"
"Are you Omega or Kappa?" she asked again, narrowing her eyes. "Have you heard of Operation Glass Vein?"
Blank stares.
She muttered strange phrases—some in Russian, others in clipped code-speak. Numbers, acronyms, like she was trying to wake something sleeping inside them.
Wanda didn't like the way she looked at them. Like she expected monsters.
"Why are you asking us that?" Wanda snapped, her voice cracking.
The woman stared a moment longer. Then, finally, the pistol lowered.
"You're clean," she murmured. "Just kids…"
For the first time, Wanda saw something human behind the steel in her eyes—anger, yes, but sadness too. Familiar sadness.
"I'm sorry," she said, almost to herself. "I thought you were… doesn't matter. You don't need to know more than you should."
They stood in the silence that followed, broken only by the soft groan of ruined walls behind them. She leaned against the car, hands over her chest, her expression unreadable.
"You saw it happen?" she asked.
They nodded.
"I've seen worse," she said. "Lived worse. But still—my condolences. I know what it means to lose everything because some people are too insatiable and beyond reasoning."
Pietro's fists clenched. "Do you know who did this?"
She didn't answer. But the silent was answer enough. She knew.. everything.
Wanda stepped closer, something burning in her chest. "Will you take us somewhere safe? An orphanage or something?"
She looked at them for a beat. "I know one not far from here. Want a ride..?"
"No," Wanda said, the word firm despite her shaking fingers.
Pietro looked at her but stayed silent.
"No?" the woman echoed.
"I want to fight."
That made her snort. "You're ten."
"You said it yourself," Wanda shot back. "You've lived worse. So have we. We deserve to fight, just like you are."
The woman tilted her head, intrigued. "Why?"
Wanda's voice shook. "I want to make the man who did this pay. The missile said Stark Industries."
That made her pause.
A thin smirk curved her lips. "Tony?" she muttered. "Well… that's ironic."
"You know him?"
"Something like that."
"Then help us. Train us."
"You don't even know if I am friends with the guy"
Wanda paused after deliberation she said "I know... But if he really was someone close to you, then you wouldn't be here trying to do what you were venting earlier about."
Her gaze hardened again, peeling them open, weighing something deeper than blood or muscle.
"Smart girl. So.. What's in it for me?" she asked. "Why should I train you instead of walking away?"
Wanda faltered. I… I didn't think of that.
Pietro who had been quiet so far, suddenly spoke
"Please, We'll do anything to repay you—just help us! We've lost everything, everything, because of that… that man!"
Wanda's eyes flared crimson when Pietro mentioned that man, just for a second—but it was enough for her to notice.
Now her gaze shifted. Calculating. Curious.
"…Huh," she said quietly. "Interesting."
"What?" Wanda asked in confusion at her yet again odd words.
"Nothing," she replied. "I've just seen that look before. People who think they can carry the world on rage alone. Spoiler alert—it's heavy."
"Is that a no?" Wanda asked, the pressure around her shifting subtly that even she didn't know she was doing.
She rubbed her face. Then stood straight.
"I should say no. You're kids. I'm no mentor." She paused, scanning the ruins. "But I've learned something. Fate doesn't care who's ready. Sometimes it throws something unexpected at you and waits to see what you do with it."
She looked at them again.
"I was supposed to be here earlier," she muttered. "Maybe this is still on time."
Pietro stepped forward. "You'll take us?"
"I'll keep you alive," she said. "Training depends on how well you listen."
They both nodded, stunned by how fast it had turned around. They were merely grasping for a straw they saw at the last moment.
She smirked. "Stop looking like I handed you candy. I can still change my mind."
"What's your name?" Wanda asked.
"Friday," she said. "Friday Evans."
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Word count: 2610
Author's section:
Let's do some clarification again, shall we?
Yes this Friday is indeed based on Tony's Ai named Friday from the comics. I was randomly inspired while brainstorming who would be his mother and his backstory while watching endgame then it just clicked when Tony mentioned Friday. Tony made Jarvis based on well Edwin Jarvis, his og butler. So why wouldn't Leo make an Ai based on his Mother who went to hunt some hydras.
Bro probably has mommy issues smh.
Anyways i am curious, if I do ever reveal her backstory, do you want a flashback or her talking about it via present dialogues (The latter would mean she would omit many details). I personally prefer flashback since she is part of the main cast.
Just in case someone is still confused, Yes Leo Howard Stark is indeed a Reincarnator. His Internal Third pov should probably hint at that along with what he did for a living.
There should be enough obvious hints about it.